


Omar's Guide to Practical Fishkeeping

by Soncasong



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Fish, Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, chaotic neutral omar and ander, iconic, omar is a nerd, post season 3 canon, the way cayetana doesnt show up at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soncasong/pseuds/Soncasong
Summary: Ten years after their graduation, Omar and Ander are still together, carving out a slice of domesticity all for themselves. So Omar decides to start a fish tank. Ander did not expect something so simple to end up being so complicated. After all, how hard is it to fuck up fish (or life)?The answer? Not very.
Relationships: Ander Muñoz/Omar Shana
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Omar's Guide to Practical Fishkeeping

“Ander,” Omar called from his spot on their couch, “Are you planning to do anything with the space between the bookshelves?”

Ander looked up from the pile of paperwork surrounding him, forms and permits and other fussy government shit he needed to fill out for the restaurant, “No, not really. You’ve got plans?”

Omar shrugged. Ander made a sound somewhere between a huff and a grunt and returned to his work. Sometimes it was hard to imagine that this was what his life had become, after the domino of disasters that was his high school career. He was a restaurant owner. He just bought his first fucking house a few months ago. He was still with Omar. That last point never ceased to amaze him, after all the shit they had pulled on each other. 

“Don’t you think this house is missing a bit of life?” Omar asked.

Ander raised an eyebrow. The house wasn’t that big, the combined salaries of a fine dining entrepreneur and a comic book artist not nearly enough to afford one of the sprawling mansion numbers his friends grew up in. “Isn’t it a little early to be talking about kids?” They weren’t even engaged. Yet. The little ring stuffed inside his sock drawer was still waiting for the right moment to find itself on Omar’s finger. 

“Who said I was talking about kids?” Omar chuckled, an amused smirk on his face, “I’m talking about pets. A tank of fish.”

“A tank of fish?”

“No, Ander, a tank of giraffes.”

Ander rolled his eyes, “You’re a shithead.”

“You love me.”

He really couldn’t argue against that, “You’re lucky you’re pretty. But, Omar. Why fish?”

Omar shrugged, “Why not?”

Omar better thank his parent’s genetics for giving him such an agreeable face, because Ander knows he’s just being a dick for the hell of it now, “Stop answering my questions with more questions, Omar.” His voice was fond, affectionate, their little back and forths rare but appreciated.

“I like fish. When I visited my relatives in Turkey, like, a million years ago, I spent the whole trip just staring at my uncle’s tank.”

Ander hummed, paperwork pushed aside, “I thought you were from Palestine?”

“I have an uncle in Turkey. We had the reunion there for safety,” Omar said it casually, like he was just describing the weather. Ander kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t his place to comment.

Omar chuckled, “It was a shitty tank. Fake plants, sick fish, water that was more algae than water. But I still loved it.”

“Then we’ll just have to make our tank not shitty, right?” Ander said.

“Yeah. How hard is it to fuck up fish?”

* * *

Apparently, it was extremely easy to fuck up fish. At least, according to Omar a week into the almost manic frenzy of research he’d been doing. Ander had glanced at his laptop once, when Omar was working on a strip of some dark fantasy comic. Thirty-five tabs. He counted. Omar insisted he was not going crazy. Ander had his doubts.

No matter, they were supposed to be having dinner with Omar’s family tonight, a biweekly tradition to keep the family updated on their children now that they’d all flown the nest. Ander had been hesitant at first, struggling to not filter every word he said, fearing that Omar would get disowned again if he acted out of line. That fear has dampened over time, but a part of Ander would always feel a little bit like an invader in their home, no matter how much Iman and Yusef reassured him otherwise. Mainly Iman.

Still, he would like to stay in their good graces, and his boyfriend was taking an awfully long time to get ready. “Omar! Hurry up!” 

“Just a minute!”

Ander sighed, fidgeting with his keys for a few more minutes as he waited. Omar finally sauntered down the stairs, bushy brows quirked in an attempt to be flirty. Ander snorted.

“What?” Omar asked, grinning, voice bent in mock offense, “You know it takes time to look this good, right?”

Ander eyed Omar up and down. He didn’t look much different from how he usually did, one of his more subtle floral shirts and nondescript jeans. “Sure.”

Omar smirked and leaned in for a kiss. Ander obliged. Maybe they could be a little bit late. There was no real heat behind the kiss, just one of the many reaffirmations of their love, a reminder to Ander that Omar was still there. 

He really should propose soon.

He wished they could stay like this, just lazily making out, but the real world called with its obligations and family dinners and Ander really didn’t want to be late. He peeled himself off Omar and dragged him towards the door.

“Bored already? I’m offended.”

Ander huffed, “We’re gonna be late and I’m not gonna be the one explaining to your parents the reason why.”

Omar shrugged, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

The man he loved was a piece of shit. Ander wouldn’t trade him for the world.

A bus ride and a short walk later and they’d somehow made it to the Shana dinner table just in time. The fragrant smell of Yusef’s cooking drifted through the dining room. Omar’s parents were both still shuffling in the kitchen, but Ander knew the moment the clock struck seven the food would be on the table. Iman and Yusef had perfected the timing of their dinners like clockwork, it was rather impressive. 

Nadia and Guzman’s spot was empty. Omar shot Ander a look, “You were saying, Ander?”

Ander shrugged. Iman smiled softly as she stepped out from behind the beaded fringe and set down the food, “Guzman’s firm is handling a big case. They’ll be running late.”

Ander stood, reaching over to help Iman with the platters, “Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

“You know you don’t have to, Ander.”

“I want to, please,” Ander insisted. 

“Alright, then,” Iman conceded, “At least you’re offering to help, unlike somebody.”

Omar laughed, “Mama, you know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Iman simply shook her head, returning to the kitchen with Ander in tow. The fragrant aroma of herbs and spices hit his system the moment he walked in, stronger than the lingering wisps in the dining room. Yusef, spooning out chickpeas and lentils into a bowl, nodded his greeting. Ander made a beeline for a heavy ceramic dish of braised lamb, knowing that Iman will insist on carrying it herself despite the strain. 

“Ander,” came Yusef’s voice from the stove.

Ander gulped. He was never really sure where he stood with Yusef, after all these years. “Yes?”

“Have you asked my son yet?”

Ander gulped again. Yusef sighed, recognizing his silence as an answer, “I did not give you the blessing to marry my son so you can sit on your butt afterwards.”

“Yusef!” Iman gasped, “He’ll tell Omar when he’s ready.”

Yusef shrugged, “I’m just saying, if you want to tell him, you better do it before he beats you to it.”

Ander could vaguely hear Yusef mumbling under his breath about white boys and western customs and how confusing it all was. Ander could agree. He had to ask Omar, do it soon, but he knew he had to make it something special. Omar deserved it. 

Ander made his way back to the table with the food, Yusef and Iman following behind. Omar tapped away at his phone.

“Nadia said they’ll be here in twenty and to start without them.” Ander watched as Omar helped himself to a heaping of rice and lamb. He could see Yusef hesitate out of the corner of his eye, reprimand on his tongue but deciding against it. Ander waited for Yusef and Iman before serving himself. 

“You said you had something important to tell us?” Omar asked.

Yusef nodded, “Later, when Nadia and Guzman are here.”

“Must be really important then,” Omar said, “I’ve got something to tell you guys too.”

Ander could see Iman and Yusef share a look, the glint of anticipation in their eyes. He felt his stomach drop, knowing their expectation and inevitable let down. 

“Ander and I are getting a fish tank.”

“Oh,” Yusef said, attempting to hide his disappointment, “That’s nice.”

“He’s been obsessively searching stuff up online all week,” Ander added, trying to distract his boyfriend’s parents, “He’s like a man possessed.”

Omar shook his head, “No I’m not, don’t believe him.”

“I heard you mumbling about pH in your sleep the other night.”

Yusef scoffed, something Ander recognized as his version of a chuckle, “Well, that’s a first.”

“Hey,” Omar whined, “I can be smart when I want to be.”

“Remember the Turkey trip?” Iman said fondly, “You were glued to your uncle’s aquarium.”

Omar nodded, beaming. Ander felt his heart skip a beat. After all this time he was still taken aback by Omar’s smile, by Omar. He hoped he would be able to make Omar smile like that, warm and full and happy, for a long time. 

There was a knock on the door. Nadia and Guzman shuffled in soon after, the bags under Guzman’s eyes dark and pronounced. He plopped unceremoniously into his chair after his greetings. Ander raised an eyebrow. Guzman and Samuel had gotten internships at a local law firm that worked them like mules. He wondered how his friends did it sometimes, the work and studying and everything else. Still, it was no reason to be so rude in front of Iman and Yusef.

“You look like shit,” Omar said. Nevermind, their son also needed a crash course in etiquette. 

“Language, Omar,” Iman snapped.

Guzman groaned, “This case is so complicated. Who thought it was a good idea for bylaws to have bylaws?”

Omar shrugged, “Politicians.”

“You didn’t have to come if you were tired,” Iman said softly, “Rest if you need to.”

Yusef nodded in agreement, “We’ll be fine if you missed a dinner or two.”

Guzman shook his head, wincing, “You said it was important, so I wanted to be here.” Ander could understand the sentiment. Guzman may not share the same guilt Ander did for not being the significant other Iman and Yusef wanted for their children, but he still cared about their opinion of him. And they were family now. Guzman told him as much, once, drunk on champagne and vodka at some party for some wealthy CEO. 

Nadia shoved a plate full of food in Guzman’s direction, “Here, eat, so you have energy for tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“So,” Omar said between bites of his lamb, “What was so important that you wanted to tell us?”

The table suddenly fell silent. The atmosphere suddenly became tense, a strange weight settling between Iman and Yusef and their confused children. Yusef’s forehead creased, the way it did when he was struggling to find his words. 

“May gave us a call.”

There was silence. Then chaos. 

“What do you mean May called?”

“What did she say?”

“Can you pass the–thanks, Nadia.”

“When did this happen?”

Yusef chuckled, “Kids, stop talking over yourself and let me talk. I’m sure that’ll answer all your questions.”

The table quieted. Ander wracked his brain for the bits of information Omar had divulged about his long lost sister. How she used to sneak them chocolate on Halloween behind their parent’s back. How she would always dance in her room to the latest pop hit with her hair flying. How she broke their hearts when she left. Ander wondered if these scattered anecdotes were enough for him to form her in his head, to know the May that Omar and Nadia and their parents knew. Probably not. 

“She asked how you’re all doing,” Yusef continued, “I said well. Then she said–”

His breath caught. Iman reached over to pat his back reassuringly. 

Omar frowned, “Baba–”

“I’m okay, son. Your sister has a child and she’s...fallen on tough times. She asked us for money.”

Nadia blinked, “That’s it?”

Yusef simply nodded, “That’s it.”

“Are you going to give it to her?” Omar asked, “We can help.”

Guzman grunted from his spot, “No, you can’t. It’s been, what, ten years? And all she does is ask for money?”

“Guzman,” Nadia pleaded, a hand on his arm to keep down his temper, “She’s our sister.”

“She didn’t even ask how you guys are doing!”

Ander sighed. He had to think of something, to intervene before Guzman inevitably said something that’ll destroy his relationship with Yusef and Iman forever. 

Omar, bless his heart, beat Ander to it, “How about this, we give her the money. But we ask her to come visit us for it.”

Yusef and Iman were quiet. Omar locked eyes with Ander, a silent plea for help.

“You want to know how she’s doing right?” Ander tried, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

“We do,” Iman said, “She’s our daughter, of course we do.”

Silence fell over the table, only punctuated by the occasional clink of cutlery on porcelain. Ander tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He was never really good at tense situations or confrontations or anything that required opening up. Except with Omar, of course, though that took work. Lots of work. He still struggled with everyone else. 

It was Yusef, of all people, that broke the silence, “Your brother wants to get an aquarium.”

“Like uncle Ibrahim’s?” Nadia asked.

Omar shook his head vigorously, “No, better.”

“How hard is it to fu–uh, mess up fish?” Guzman asked. 

“According to Omar?” Ander chuckled, “Very easy.”

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, the discussion staying light and easy, everyone dancing around the subject of May’s return. Omar almost bored everyone to death talking about ammonia and cycling and other sciency terms Ander couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around. At least Nadia seemed interested. Nerds, both of them, even if Omar was good at hiding it. 

Later, while Ander and Iman washed dishes as Omar and Yusef watched some football game in the living room after Nadia and Guzman left, Iman pulled Ander into a hug. 

“Um. Iman?”

“Thank you, sweet boy,” Iman muttered quietly.

Ander shuffled awkwardly. Attempted to, it was hard to fidget in someone else’s arm. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You kept the peace and gave us hope,” Iman said simply, “And I am very thankful for that.”

Ander smiled. They returned to the dishes in companionable silence. 

* * *

“Fuck, Omar,” Samu grunted, “Why is this thing so heavy?”

Omar’s breathing was strained and shallow, huffing out his reply, “That’s before the water.”

“Shit, is your shelf gonna be able to hold?”

Ander nodded, “Yep, Omar did the math and everything.”

“Well, fuck, Omar,” Samu whistled, “Never seen you this excited about math.”

“Shut up and lift, Samu!”

An eternity of awkward maneuvering and cursing later, the tank was finally in its spot on the shelf. Ander plopped down on their couch, wiping the sweat pooling on his brow. Shit, that stupid thing was really heavy. This better be worth it.

Omar joined him soon after, seemingly reading his thoughts, “Trust me, I’ll make it all worth it later.” He ran a hand through Ander’s curls, pulling him into a kiss.

“Disgusting,” Samu said, finding his place on the couch.

“Then you can leave, homophobe,” Omar said, planting one final kiss to Ander’s cheek.

Samu sputtered beside Ander, still the same awkward kid that walked through Las Encinas all those years ago. He and Omar had stayed close after their graduation. It was Samu’s newfound friendship with Guzman that really surprised Ander, the two attending the same university, the same law programs, and now doing the same internship. Ander would have been jealous, but he knew Guzman well. The man was loyal. His heart had enough room for many important people. 

“How big is that thing again?” Samu asked.

Ander shrugged, “One fifty?”

Omar laughed, “No, two fifty five liters. We got lucky the nook in the bookshelf is the perfect size.”

“So what are we gonna do with that?”

Ander and Omar turned to the direction Samu was pointing. The lid of the tank laid innocently on the floor, bolts and screws and instructions strewn about from where the three of them had given up on installing it to the tank. Ander had never seen an assembly booklet that confusing and most of his mom’s furniture was from ikea. 

“Do we really need a lid?” Ander asked, silently hoping Omar would just say no and spare them the misery.

Omar seemed conflicted, at least, but he still nodded, “Yeah. The fish can jump.”

“I’ll call Guzman over,” Samu sighed, resigned, “We’ll need another brain on this if we’re gonna get anywhere.”

Ander gulped. He could already feel himself losing a few years of his life. 

* * *

Ander unlocked the door to their house, ready to plop down on the couch, have a beer, maybe a joint, and just cuddle with Omar. Work had been brutal, him and Rebe pouring over permits and forms so they could finally start franchising outside of Madrid. He needed something to distract him from it all. Instead, Ander found Omar tinkering with some small device near the fish tank, a pile of clear tubes at his feet.

“What’s all this?” Ander asked, wrapping his arms around Omar’s waist.

“Setting up the filter,” Omar muttered, “Figured I should get a headstart on that.”

“There’s not even fish in here yet.”

Omar shrugged, leaning further into Ander’s arms, “They say you need to let the filter run to cycle through the tank before you put in fish anyways.”

“They who?”

“The fish people.”

Ander grinned. Fish talk was not exactly on the top of his list for things he wanted to talk about, but it was a welcome distraction. He joined Omar by the tank, marveling at the complexity of the filter.

“Shouldn’t that go inside the tank?”

Omar shook his head, “I got an external one. Makes the tank look nicer anyways, and it’s stronger. And don’t worry about the cost. It was expensive, but we have disposable income.”

Ander hummed. He wasn’t really that concerned about the price. They both made enough to be able to afford luxury purchases every now and again. It was the occasional Lacoste cardigan for Ander, and apparently aquarium accessories for Omar. They had nowhere as much as he had when his parents were together, of course, and not nearly as much as he would make if he was a tennis player, as his dad liked to remind him on the rare occasions they still met. He didn’t exactly mind. Money didn’t really matter much to Ander, anyway.

“Can I do anything to help?”

Omar smiled, “I’m fine. Plus, you look like shit, Ander. Why don’t you go shower and then we can have dinner?”

Ander shook his head, kissing the little knobs on the back of Omar’s neck, “I’d rather shower with you.”

“Alright then.”

“Don’t you have to figure this out?”

Omar shrugged, “Not really. I still haven’t figured out what fish I want to get yet.”

“So what fish do you want to get.”

“Ander,” Omar chuckled, “I just told you I don’t know. Besides, do you want to shower with me or talk about fish? Because I’d be happy to just talk fish.”

Ander pushed himself off Omar with a laugh and headed to their bathroom, flipping him off on the way in. He could hear Omar padding behind him. Ander was lucky, really lucky, that he got this, got to return home to this, every day. Maybe he should just ask Omar right here, right now. 

Ander scoffed. No, Omar deserved better. He was going to give Omar better. He peeled off his clothes, turned on the shower, and waited for Omar to step in. 

  
  
  


“Omar,” Ander said, “Are you free October fourth?”

Omar looked up from the tank of tiny neon red fish he was eyeing, “I should be, but you never really know if I’ll get called in for an emergency meeting at the art house. Why?”

Ander shrugged, “You know that fancy restaurant that Guzman and Lu likes? The one with the red chairs? I got us a reservation, thank god they had a free spot.”

“Ander, the day I sold you your first joint is not our anniversary.”

“Then what is?” Ander asked, “Please don’t say the day we matched on the dating app.”

Omar shrugged, “You can’t hide from the truth.”

Their official anniversary was a hotly debated topic, even amongst their friends. Samu was convinced it was the day they met at his party, Guzman thought it was the day they kissed in the wine cellars, Nadia insisted it was when Omar chose Ander over New York. Hell, even Yusef had his own opinion on the matter, the day Ander ran his mouth in front of Iman while he was at the hospital. The general consensus was that there was no general consensus. 

Still, that day just made sense to Ander. The day he fell head over heels for the dealer with the bushy eyebrows and shit posture deserved to be celebrated. And maybe, just maybe, if he proposed then, it’ll finally put the whole debate to rest.

He wandered over to a tank full of pretty, fat orange fish with long flowing tails and bulging eyes. He was pretty sure these were goldfish. Omar had insisted on dragging Ander to the pet store to take a look at fish, so he can decide what kind to get. Ander hadn’t really seen the point of it, going to a shop and not buying anything, but Omar had been so excited that Ander gave in quite fast. 

“These are nice.”

Omar hummed distractedly, “Yeah, but they’re dirty and high maintenance.”

“Shit, you’re picky. Found anything you like yet?”

“These,” Omar gestured excitedly, “Look, look.”

Ander made his way to his boyfriend’s side, interested in what was catching Omar’s attention. A group of milky white fish swam in slow circles around each other, two skinny long fins extending from their bellies like little antennae. They seemed to glisten under the fluorescent light. Ander watched Omar, eyes glued to the pale fish, transfixed.

“You like these huh?”

Omar simply nodded, attention still plastered to the fish.

“So we gonna buy them?”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. “No. Chain store fish are sickly and we’d just be wasting our money. I’ll find a local place that takes care of their stock better.”

Ander grinned, “Wow, look at you with all your knowledge.”

“I’ll have to learn more,” Omar shrugged, looking at the label on the tank of the fish, “Moonlight gourami. Huh, what a pretty name.”

“They’re a little plain, don’t you think?” Ander asked. There were a few vibrant fish in little cups at the other end of the store that he quite liked, but Omar had brushed them off as being too aggressive. 

“The tank has a black background. They’ll pop, trust me.”

Well, Omar was the artist. Ander supposed he could trust him on that. “So, what now?”

“I figure out what this fish needs to be happy and have a long life and what other fish can live with it. Easy.”

Ander chuckled, “Can’t be too hard to fuck up, right?”

His heart skipped a beat at Omar’s matching grin. “Yeah, can’t be that hard.”

* * *

“What. The fuck. Is your man doing.”

Rebe always had a way of turning questions into statements, statements into exclamations, and pepper in as many curses as she could into those exclamations. She made an excellent business partner, even if she tried to convince Ander to play for the other team sometimes. Specifically with her. It never worked. 

“He’s testing the water pH,” Ander replied, “Just gave me a lecture on that like, ten minutes ago. Now I know what hard and soft water is.”

“And that’s very important information,” Omar said from his spot by the tank. A startling array of color coded bottles lined the edge of the shelf, where Omar had been tinkering and re-tinkering with the water for the past hour. 

“Yep, extremely important,” Ander said, “he has to know if the water is soft or hard.”

Rebe snorted, “Hey, Sultan, better be careful before I steal your boyfriend.”

“The only girl he’ll ever fuck is the Marquesita.” 

“Him too,” Ander said, not missing a beat, “She’s probably the only person in the world that can break us up.”

Rebe rolled her eyes, “Well, you’ll be very happy to know that she will be visiting soon and that she needs a place to stay.”

“She hasn’t told us that,” Omar called, sounding only mildly offended.

“Well, she doesn’t want to hear you and this hot piece here fucking,” Rebe said, “Or Nadia and Guzman fucking. Or me or Lu or Valerio fucking whoever that week. So she’s staying with Samu.”

“Not Christian?”

Rebe scoffed, “When you have to pick between those two who would you go to? Also, again, the fucking.”

“You got a point,” Omar conceded, “But doesn’t she have her own place?”

“You haven’t heard?” Rebe gasped. Ander and Omar shared a look before collectively shaking their heads.

“The Marquesita’s parents flipped out when they saw Valerio’s latest marketing campaign.”

“The one with the nude model?” Ander asked, “And the sock?”

Rebe nodded, “They deadass sold their Madrid house and moved to some vacation villa in some kind of weird rich people tantrum I’ll never understand. So Carla doesn’t really have a place to stay.”

Omar blinked, “Can’t she buy another place? She’s loaded.”

“She doesn’t stay here long or often enough to justify the purchase.”

“Rich people, am I right?” Ander scoffed, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at Omar.

“Shut up, Ander,” Omar grinned, “I’m surprised Lacoste hasn’t called you to be their model or spokesperson or something.”

“I’m too pretty. Would distract from the clothes.”

“Damn straight.” It was nice to know Rebe had the same opinion. 

Ander sent himself to the kitchen to grab Rebe a beer, their guest having waited long enough for her refreshment. They’d grown used to Rebeca’s impromptu drop-ins, which had only increased in frequency after they’d moved out of their old apartment and into this house. She was his business partner, after all, taking care of a lot of the branding and decor and the other details that made their restaurants a success. That left Ander to handle most of the financial aspects of business. He hadn’t been too happy with that at first, but thank god he was halfway to decent with numbers. 

He returned to the living room with two beers, handing one over to Rebe. She was engrossed in conversation with Omar, gossiping about what Ander quickly figured out to be Samuel’s lingering attraction to Carla.

“I’m kind of offended I heard about this from you and not Samu,” Omar pouted, “I thought I was his best friend.”

“Well,” Rebe muttered, “He doesn’t exactly know yet.”

“Shit, he’s gonna flip.”

Andr let himself relax on the couch as Rebe and Omar speculated on how much of an ass Samu will make of himself. Occasionally he offered his opinion, but he was content to let the conversation wash over him, enjoying the presence of two of his favorite people. Granted, he had a lot of favorite people, a fact that surprised him to this day. His list used to consist of just Guzman and Polo. 

Ander had forgotten that Omar was still conducting his little science experiment, lulled by the sound of Rebe and Omar’s chatter. Until his boyfriend let out a very loud, very dramatic “fuck.”

He bolted up, instantly alert, “Omar? What’s wrong?”

“The water’s hard.”

Ander blinked. He could vaguely register Rebe’s bark of laughter in the back of his mind, but his brain was still racing to catch up with Omar, “And that’s…”

“Bad,” Omar finished, “Gouramis like soft, acidic water. So do the rest of the fish I’m planning to get.”

“What kind?” Rebe asked, “I know you’ve been sending Lu pictures, she was ranting to me about it the other day. I’m honestly offended you didn’t include me.”

“Now you know how I feel about Samu,” Omar replied, “Also, I’m thinking about gouramis. Lots of them, and probably corys to round it out.”

Rebe nodded, her eyes glazed over the same way they did when Ander tried explaining the finer points of sales tax to her. He struggled to bite back his laughter. Omar barreled on, oblivious to Rebe’s brain slowly shutting down, “I’m a little scared the gouramis will be aggressive towards each other, but I read as long as I avoid males, they’ll be fine. Good thing gouramis are easy to sex. Think I’ll at least get a male dwarf, though, they have a ton of personality.”

Ander decided now was a good enough time to put Rebe out of her misery. He’d grown intimately aware of different fish’s compatibility to gouramis the past few days, from temperament to swimming speed to water preferences to a host of other things. Omar had officially gone off the deep end. 

“How’s the, um...ammonia?’

“Good,” Omar answered, “Basically undetectable. The nitrite and nitrate levels are concerning, but that should be solved once I get the plants in and start running the filter.”

“There’s gonna be plants?” Rebe whistled. Ander was surprised she was still paying attention. “Damn, you’re pulling out all the works.”

“And caves too,” Omar added, “The pygmy gouramis like caves.”

“Well, I’m gonna go. Got a hot date tonight and I need to make sure I look good and smell better.”

“Tinder?”

“Grindr.” Omar and Ander both gave her a look. “What? It’s easier to find a girl that’s down to fuck on there than on tinder. I’ve been getting bored of boys with fishing pics on tinder anyways, no offense Omar.”

Omar clasped his hand over his heart, “I would never do that to my fish babies.”

“Who doesn't even exist right now?”

“Did you just come over to tell us about Carla?” Ander asked.

“Hey, you’re gonna thank me,” she said, gesturing towards Omar, “A little warning before Samu finds out and freaks out.”

On cue, Omar’s phone began ringing. A quick nod confirmed Ander’s suspicions, Samu was on the other end. Rebe’s prophetic abilities were scarily accurate sometimes.

“Told you,” she grinned, “Catch you later, Sultan. Tell me when you’re bored of his fish talk and I’ll take good care of you, hot stuff.”

She left just as she came, in a whirlwind of color and sound, leaving Ander to listen to Omar trying to console a ranting Samu on the phone. He should probably check their fridge soon, whip up something for dinner. Omar was still tinkling with his test kit, even as Samu’s voice grew a few pitches higher with each passing second. Yeah, he’ll leave Omar to it. Ander will get a play by play later at dinner anyway. Never a boring day with their friends.

* * *

Ander was lazily scrolling through Netflix originals, trying to find something he and Omar hadn’t binged yet to watch later tonight. He was usually the one that found the shows, Omar only joining after Ander had seen enough episodes to deem the media worthy of their time. Most of the things they’ve ended up watching were at least decent. Ander trusted his system. 

He still remembered how Omar reacted when he watched David and Patrick get married on Schitt’s Creek. The wonder, the excitement, the tears threatening to spill. He couldn’t wait to see Omar’s face when he finally asked. 

Ander was still browsing when he heard the click of the door. Omar rarely had to go to the studio for work, most of his time spent at home drawing panels for the latest strips of some generic superhero shit. He knew Omar was trying to get his own strip published instead of drawing other people’s stuff, and he knew the in person meeting this time was important.

“Omar?” Ander called, “How’d it go?”

No answer. 

“Omar?”

Still no answer. Ander hopped off the couch as fast as he could, rushing to the door to check on Omar. He found his boyfriend struggling to lug a huge bag of something through their house, brows furrowed, decidedly not looking at Ander’s face.

The meeting must have gone south.

“What’s all this?” Ander asked. He had learned, over the years, to give Omar a little space before asking him further, but to not ignore him entirely. God knows Ander was also prone to shutting down when stressed. 

“Substrate,” Omar said, “And a heater.” Right, for the tank. Ander thought Omar was going to pick the stuff up this weekend, but he must have decided he wanted to grab it now.

“Want me to give you a hand?”

Omar nodded wordlessly. Ander took one side of the bag and hauled it to the tank. Fuck, this shit was really heavy, what the hell did Omar even buy? Ander took a peek. A hefty bag of black dirt stared back at him.

“Omar? Why’d you buy dirt?” 

Omar’s face broke into a grin, his brow unfurrowing, a little bit of life returning to his face, “It’s aquarium soil. For the plants and the bottom dwellers.”

Ander nodded, “Alright then, what can I do to help?”

“Just pour it in. I have to find something to rake the substrate with.”

“I think there’s a small garden fork thing somewhere here from my mom’s gardening phase,” Ander offered, even though he wasn’t really sure what the benefits of raking the dirt was, “It’s probably in the storeroom somewhere.”

Omar pressed a kiss to his temple, “My hero.”

By the time Omar returned with the rake, Ander had all the dirt piled into a little mountain in the center of the tank, his attention turned to a little black stick Omar had bought with the dirt. There was an extension cord included with the rod, and Ander was pretty sure he was supposed to plug it in. Still, he had no idea what this thing did and he wasn’t keen on doing something to fuck up Omar’s very delicate set up. 

“Why are you looking at the heater like it offends you?” Omar asked.

“Oh, it’s a heater,” Ander nodded. Omar had already explained the intricacies of needing a heater for a tropical tank to Ander before, because even if Spain was hot, it still got too cold in the winter to be comfortable for fish from the tropics. “Want me to plug it in?”

“No need, not until we have water in the tank,” Omar said, running the rake over the soil, shaping the mound into peaks and valleys, “Just set it aside.”

Ander did as he was told, watching Omar rake the dirt, over and over and over, too many times to be necessary. Ander understood the need for it, for a repetitive motion to ground Omar. He waited. 

Omar finally spoke, “My concept was rejected.”

Ander hummed. He suspected as much, based on Omar’s mood. “Why?”

“They said I could have a gay boy or a brown boy as a main character,” Omar sighed, “But not one that’s both.”

Ander gulped. He felt his own rage flare. Omar didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve his talent to be snuffed out because of whatever excuse the executives came up for something so blatantly racist and homophobic. 

“It’s fine, Ander,” Omar continued.

“No,” Ander insisted, “No, it’s not. You deserve to tell your own story.” His gaze traveled over to the little Omar shrine he had set up on their wall, framed copies of Omar’s first art credit, his first cover, his first full page spread. There was a spot in the middle Ander had reserved for Omar’s first full issue. His heart twisted as he realized it would stay blank for a while longer. 

“I know I do,” Omar muttered, “But what can I do? I’ll just...work on a different pitch, I guess.”

Ander wrapped his arms around Omar’s waist, “I think they’re idiots for rejecting your pitch. Send it somewhere else.”  
  


“Can’t violate my contract, Ander.”

Ander pouted, even though he expected as much, “Well...At least the tank’s looking great.”

Omar’s surprised laughter was music to his ears. Ander pressed more kisses into Omar’s neck, the shell of his ear, the back of his head, feeling Omar relax and melt into his arms. 

“Ander?”

“Yes Omar?”

“Want to help me just...forget about today for a bit?”

Ander grinned, “Gladly.”

* * *

“Hey, mom,” Ander called, letting himself into his childhood home. The place had barely changed since those simpler days, maybe a little brighter and more floral without the presence of his dad. 

His mom met him by the door, kissing his cheeks and patting his shoulders, “Ander! Where’s Omar?”

Ander sighed, “Omar couldn’t make it, they’re making him work crunch time on some limited issue. He’s sorry, by the way.”

“That’s fine,” his mom said, patting Ander again. There was a twinkle in her eye that she only got when she was about to give Ander a brutal grilling. “We need to talk. Privately.”

Ander gulped. He had a pretty good idea what this was about, “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

Azucena shrugged, “Maybe.”

He followed her into the kitchen, instinctively rummaging through the cabinets for dishes and utensils and setting them in their usual places. He felt bad, sometimes, that his mom had to live alone in such a big house. But him and Omar visited often, and she had struck up friendships with both Iman and Lu that honestly scared Ander shitless. At least he knew his mom wasn’t lonely.

He waited for his mom to serve herself a portion of spaghetti bolognese before helping himself. Ander’s version was never as good as Azucena’s, a fact Omar had never let him live down. Hell, he was under threat of bodily harm if he didn’t bring Omar back at least two servings worth of leftovers. At least. 

“How’s work?” his mom asked. It was a little awkward, sometimes, having to relay the details of his life to someone who was once so deeply ingrained in it. Ander didn’t want to leave her out, no matter how shit he was with his words sometimes, so he tried his best to fill her in.

“Trying to franchise,” Ander answered, “Rebe’s terrible at that stuff so I have to handle it. It’s a headache. You?”

The exasperation in his mother’s voice was almost overwhelming, “You cannot believe what happened last week. I’ll give you three guesses.”

“I have a feeling whatever I say will pale in comparison to the actual events.”

“Just give it your best shot, Ander.”

The conversation meandered around those topics for a bit. Ander bitched about bureaucracy and taxes. His mom filled him in on all the crazy shit the student population of Las Encinas was up to now. Someone decided to project their sex tape on to the wall during graduation. A teacher was caught organizing an underground fight club. The science wing blew up because someone tried to cook meth. Honestly, Ander wasn’t even that surprised at half the stories, if Las Encinas was anything like when he left it. 

Eventually the conversation returned to Omar. Ander’s favorite subject, really, but the glint in his mother’s eye from earlier was still there and that made Ander just a bit apprehensive. 

“How’s Omar? Catch me up on him,” his mom asked, “Still setting up that aquarium?”

Ander scoffed, fondly, “It’s still empty. He’s going to buy plants and ‘other goodies’ soon, though, so maybe I’ll see some water in that thing this week before he spends another month just doing research.”

“And the ring?”

Ander almost choked on his pasta.

After a few moments to sputter and collect himself, Ander responded with, in his opinion, the most eloquence he had ever managed to muster up, “What?”

His mom rolled her eyes, “When are you going to propose? How long have you been sitting on your ass about that now?”

“Um.” 

“Ander?”

“I’m going to propose, I swear,” Ander said, his voice suspiciously close to a whine, “I already picked out a restaurant and a date and everything.”

Azucena’s face lit up. Ander would have been offended if he didn’t also love Omar that much, “Really? Good for you. You’re going to follow through this time, right?”

“Yes, mom!” Ander exclaimed, “He’s the love of my life. Sometimes I think you like Omar more than me.”

“Well…”

“Mom!”

His mom patted his shoulder gently, “Well, if it’s any consolation, Iman told me you’re her favorite white boy.”

Ander scoffed, “Not that hard when my only competition is Guzman. No offense to him.” He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that information, if he was honest. Nadia and Omar had both mentioned their mom’s attachment to Ander, even though Guzman was Nadia’s husband and Ander was just the boyfriend. A very long term boyfriend. Ander wasn’t sure he really even believed them, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“And Iman is doing well, yes?” his mom pressed, “She’d been hard to get ahold of lately.”

Ander nodded. He wasn’t sure if Iman told his mom about the May situation at all, so he decided against mentioning any of that, “She’s just busy with the store.”

Azucena sighed, “Iman’s busy with work, Omar’s busy with work, are you going to be the next one too busy with work to visit me?”

“No, mom,” Ander said gently, “Also, don’t you have work to do, too?”

“Fifteen expulsions to file, yes.”

“I can keep you company.”

His mom smiled, “I’d like that, Ander.”

* * *

Ander had many ideas on how his weekend would go, but never in a million years did he expect to spend it painting PVC pipes in fish safe black. Omar was arranging and rearranging a few pots and a mass of plants Ander can’t even identify in the tank. Omar said the pipes were for the pygmy gouramis, whatever those were, since they liked having caves to hide in. The variety of plants had astounded Ander, who didn’t even know so many aquatic plants even existed. Broad leafed plants, stringy plants, plants that stuck up like little blades of grass, fuzzy bushes, balls of moss. They were beautiful, and Ander was sure Omar’s artistic eye would do the plants justice. 

Ander had to admit, painting was pretty relaxing. He wasn’t usually a perfectionist, that was Omar’s deal, but something about this compelled him to make sure every nook and cranny of PVC was perfectly covered in paint.

“Ander, I appreciate your dedication,” Omar said, “But I need to glue the java moss on to the pipes.”

“Sorry,” Ander said bashfully, handing the pipes over to Omar, “What can I do to help?”

“Can you start bringing the water over?”

Thirty minutes later and Ander was collapsed on the couch, thankful that their house was both small and not carpeted. The route from their kitchen to the living room was marked with a trail of spilled water, three full buckets of the stuff standing at attention by Omar. Ander watched with mild disinterest as Omar did some strange chemistry magic with the buckets before returning to his arranging. He panted, recovering his breath, resolving himself to do more cardio at the gym, as Omar finally started pouring in the water.

The effect was magical. Where there was once just a carpet of green suddenly became a textured jungle, swaying gently in the current. The soil was completely carpeted in lush grass. Omar had divided the tank in half, one side decorated by the pots, with plants and moss balls spilling over and under the terracotta. There was a bit of empty space in the middle, then the moss covered PVC pipe caves positioned next to an entire fucking tree.

“How’d you do that?” Ander marveled.

“The tree?” Omar grinned, “Just some driftwood and java moss. It’s nice, yeah?”

“More than nice. It looks fucking amazing.”

“Damn right.”

“When are the fish going in?” Ander asked.

“We gotta let the tank cycle, so like, two weeks,” Omar answered.

“Two weeks?”

“And the fish have to be introduced in waves,” Omar elaborated, “Can’t overload the tank that quickly.”

Ander sighed, “Well, at least this looks really nice. It’s not empty anymore. You did a good job.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“What fish are you getting again?”

“I’m thinking cory cats first,” Omar said, “Here, let me show you a video of them.”

Ander made room for Omar on the couch, watching the video he’d pull up of some plain looking fish chasing each other in circles, piling on top of each other to sleep, rolling over each other for food. Ander had to admit, they were adorable, even if they lacked color. Omar spent the next few hours pulling up more of the fish he was thinking about keeping. Plain pygmy gouramis that croaked at night, striking powder blue dwarf gouramis that bobbed for food at the surface, oblong peacock gudgeons darting in and out of their caves. A variety of schooling fish, tetras and danios and guppies, with Omar still indecisive on which species was best for the tank, or to even keep any at all. Ander didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up at the sight of the moonlight gouramis, the centerpiece of it all, iridescently glowing even on the low rez video they were watching. 

“I’m a little concerned about aggression, still,” Omar admitted, “These fish are only kept together with mixed success.”

“Isn’t that why you got the plants?” Ander asked, remembering one of the many lectures Omar had given him over the past few months.

“Yeah,” Omar nodded, “It’s also why they’re all going to be females. I was going to grab a male dwarf, but I think I’ll go for a male pygmy instead.”

“For...the croak?”

“Exactly.”

Ander pressed a lazy kiss to Omar’s forehead, “When did you become such a nerd?”

Omar shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe I always was a nerd.”

“Well, nerd, I’m looking forward to what this tank of yours will look like with fish.”

“Me too.” 

* * *

“Nadia? Guzman? Can we come in?”

Guzman met them at the door, letting them in. Their apartment was something Ander wasn’t really used to seeing Guzman in, small and cluttered with textbooks and workbooks and files. It made sense, with both Guzman and Nadia still in school, but he knew once they graduated the two of them would be making an obscene amount of money. A doctor and a lawyer. Omar once joked that Nadia and Guzman would be his parent’s wet dream, if Guzman wasn’t white. 

“She’s one the phone with your parents,” Guzman said quietly to Omar, “It sounds serious.”

Omar quickly tapped open his phone and scrolled through, “Fuck, I missed their calls.”

“Here’s the law book you lent me,” Ander said, “Omar and I were going to get some takeout, but…” 

“You should stay.”

Ander nodded, following Guzman to the coffee table he knew Nadia and Guzman used to eat, study, rest their feet, and probably fuck. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about that right before dinner. 

He could catch pieces of Nadia’s conversation in the other room. Neither her nor Guzman were particularly good at being subtle.

“No, baba, I–”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Baba, it’s not your fault.”

“We’ll figure it out. I love you. He’s here, I’ll catch him up.”

Nadia stormed into the little room, her withering glare pointed straight at Omar. Ander could feel himself reeling from its intensity. From the corner of his eyes, he caught Guzman pulling back as well. It was in everyone’s best interest to give an angry Nadia a wide berth.

“Omar!” Nadia exclaimed, “Where the hell were you? Mama and baba had been trying to call you all night.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Omar placated, “My phone was off, I swear!”

Nadia simply groaned, plopping down on the couch next to Guzman. Ander tried not to flinch. Emphasis on tried.

“Nadia, Nadia,” Omar muttered soothingly, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with mama and baba?” Ander recognized that look in Omar’s eyes, the barely suppressed panic, Omar pushing himself to force down his own emotions for someone else. 

Fuck, right. His parents. Yusef’s stroke. Ander whipped his head to Nadia, breath hitched, expecting the worse.

“It’s May,” Nadia sighed, “She refused to come. Said some...nasty things to baba over the phone.”

Omar’s face fell, “Fuck.”

Ander was by his side in an instant, arms wrapped protectively around Omar. 

“Does she hate us that much?” Nadia whispered.

“She’s hurt,” Omar replied.

“Your parents are different now,” Guzman said firmly, “It’s her loss if she refuses to give them a chance.”

“She’s our sister, Guzman,” Nadia said. Her head fell into her hands, then a sigh, “Guzman, why don’t you get started on dinner?”

Ander looked at Omar. Omar met his eyes. A twitch of his brows, a quirk of his lips. Ander understood, he had spent nearly a decade in love with this man, perfected the art of the silent conversation. He wanted a moment with Nadia. Ander stood wordlessly and followed Guzman into the kitchen.

“Did you get banished too?” Guzman chuckled dryly.

Ander shrugged, “Omar and Nadia need time to talk.”

Guzman huffed, “I don’t see why May’s being such a jerk about it.”

Ander raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t really one to dredge up the shit that happened to them in the past, but Guzman’s hot head needed the occasional reminder sometimes, “Remember how you acted towards Samu when…”

“That’s different.”

Ander rolled his eyes, “Even before you were kind of an ass to him. Now you’re like, best buds.”

“You’re my best friend,” Guzman said automatically.

“You can have more than one.”

Guzman chuckled, “Are you trying to make yourself feel better for leaving me for Rebe?”

“How do you think I feel? You left me for Samu and Lu,” Ander said, before realizing exactly what Guzman was doing. God, the guy was going to be an ass of a lawyer, “Stop trying to change the subject.”

Guzman raised his hands in surrender, “You got me, Ander. Guilty as charged.”

“I’m just saying,” Ander said quietly, “She might need some time before she can bring herself to face her parents again.”

Guzman sighed, “I get what you’re saying. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

“Stubborn ass.”

“You calling my husband names, Ander?” Nadia said, emerging into the kitchen, Omar following close behind. There was a somber lightness to the two of them, a solemnity Ander recognized as the aftermath of a deep conversation. 

Omar met his gaze. Ander nodded. He’ll get a rundown later.

“Did you even do any cooking?” Nadia asked.

Guzman sputtered, “I, uh, I stirred the pot?”

Nadia giggled, “Ander, first you call him names and then you distract him from his husbandly duties.”

“I’m naturally distracting,” Ander said simply.

Omar huffed, “Nadia, we can’t ever let these two be alone together again, or my boyfriend’s gonna run off with your husband.”

Nadia nodded, “Adult supervision at all time.”

Laughter erupted in the little room. Nadia turned her attention back to the food, chiding Guzman for leaving something or the other on the stove for too long. He felt Omar lean into his side, felt the whisper of his boyfriend’s breath against his ear.

“Ander, can I be little spoon tonight?”

Ander nodded, “Anything you need tonight, you’ll get it.”

“Just tonight?”

“Yup. Only tonight. Better make the most of it.”

Omar scoffed, “Asshole.” He swatted at Ander playfully, Ander only seeing it fit to return the favor.

“Alright, boys,” Nadia called, “Stop horsing around and come eat your dinner.”

Omar rolled his eyes, “Yes, mom!” He tugged at Ander’s hand. Ander couldn’t help but follow.

* * *

Ander felt like shit. He had woken up to a raging headache and a fever that refused to break no matter how much tylenol he’d been downing. It wasn’t the cold he was worried about, not really, it was more the way Omar tended to act when he got remotely sick. He understood it was a lingering worry from his cancer scare, but he didn’t really like it when Omar dropped everything to baby over him the moment he started to sniffle.

Anyways, Ander was going to be fine, so he’d really like it if Omar would just go back to work, please.

“Ander, are you sure you’re alright on the couch?”

Ander groaned, “Yes, Omar, I’m sure. Go do your work.” Omar had been offered another chance to pitch his own comic idea, and Ander knew how important this was to Omar. To both of them really. He wasn’t going to let some cold his body had decided to let in fuck Omar over.

“But the living room is colder than the bed room.”

“Omar, it’s fine," Ander sighed, “I wanna look at our new fish anyway.”

It was true, Omar had brought home a bag full of little cory cats a few days ago, doing some fancy acclimation thing before releasing them into the tank. The fish had instantly begun exploring every nook and cranny of the tank, scrambling over the plants, the caves, the driftwood and java moss tree. Ander had been glued to the tank, watching the twelve fish form a tight pack one moment only to disperse into little groups the next, then forming together again. He had even caught three of them piled up on top of each other and, once getting confirmation from Omar that they were not dying, snapped pictures to send to all of their friends. 

Ander had not expected to like the plain little guys this much, but he did. So he was going to use this cold as an excuse to watch them, uninterrupted, for a few hours. 

“They are pretty cute,” Omar chuckled, “But seriously, tell me if you need anything, Ander.”

Ander hummed. The soft tap of Omar’s pen on his tablet punctuated the soft whir of the filter. He watched a group of three corys break off from the main group to climb up the moss tree, piling into a stack at the top. Ander felt his eyelids go heavy. He blinked once, twice, three times, finding it harder to finish the motion with each subsequent blink.

When Omar shook him awake, the afternoon light was beginning to dim into evening. Ander yawned and twisted himself to get a good look at Omar.

“Morning, Roman,” he muttered sleepily.

“Evening, Andres,” Omar chuckled. He pressed a hand against Ander’s forehead, “Looks like your fever’s gone down.”

“What’d I tell, you?”

Omar shook his head, “Drink this.” 

Ander made a face, but he obediently sat up and swallowed Omar’s procured pills and water. “Look, mom, all done,” Ander said, sticking out his tongue.

“I was worried, Ander.”

“And I’m fine, now,” Ander insisted, “Did you get any work done?”

“Not as much as I would’ve without your snoring.”

Ander scoffed, “Fuck you.”

Omar shrugged, “Maybe when you’re not infectious anymore. I’m gonna make dinner.”

“Ugh, I don’t think I can swallow anything right now,” Ander groaned, catching the glint in Omar’s eyes, “Don’t start. I’m serious.”

“I’ll make you soup,” Omar whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“What happened to me being infectious?”

“I’ll take that risk,” Omar smiled. “Hang on tight, Ander. I’ll get cooking.”

“Not going anywhere, Omar.” He wasn’t planning to. 

* * *

“The silvery ones are pygmy gouramis,” Omar said excitedly, “There are five of those, I read that semi-aggressive fish should be kept in odd numbers.”

Lu nodded, “And what about the little fat ones? Look at them go!”

“Cory cats, they’re super cute. Doesn’t Ander send you guys pics of them all piled up all the time?.”

“Oh yeah, he does. I love this tree, it’s very chic.”

“Driftwood, java moss, and super glue,” Omar said, “Fish safe. The glue, I mean.”

Ander was still honestly slightly terrified of the friendship Lu and Omar had found themselves in after the shitshow that was his second to last year at Las Encinas. When she was in New York with Nadia, Lu had been a common fixture of Omar’s video calls, begging Omar for the latest Madrid gossip. Now she was doing something fancy with the government and rising up the ranks of the elite Madrid social scene again. Still, her visits have only gotten more frequent.

She would have his head if he ever hurt Omar. Hurt Omar again. 

“Um. Lu, do you want something to drink?” Ander asked tentatively. 

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Ander. Alone.”

Ander gulped. Thankfully, Omar must have wanted to gossip more, because he spoke up, “Wait, Lu, you still haven’t told me about the guy at–”

“Why are the little kitty cat fish doing that?” Lu asked innocently.

“Doing what?” Omar asked, whipping his head around with the slightest edge of panic. Ander peered over for a look. A few of the corys were swimming up and down in a rapid fashion, frenetic but nothing Ander hadn’t seen before. But Lu was a genius, because that was just enough of a distraction for Lu to pull Ander into the kitchen.

“Lu, what–”

“Ander, sweetie,” Lu interjected, her saccharine tone making Ander’s blood run cold, “Why haven’t you proposed to Omar yet?”

“Lu, what?”

“Listen, Ander,” Lu muttered, giving him the biggest eye roll he’d ever seen, “Omar is a catch. And I’d rather you realize that first before he realizes that.”

Ander blinked.

“Shit, Ander. Seriously, go lock that boy down. It’ll make him happy.”

Ander managed to find his voice, “I’m planning to–”

“Omar!” Lu crooned as Omar made his way over to them, “Are your fish okay?”

Omar nodded, “Yeah, it’s just natural cory behavior, nothing to worry about.”

“Amazing! Let’s go out for lunch, I’m feeling adventurous and I’m pretty sure neither of you have cooked anything.”

Omar shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

Lu turned around and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like “propose to him fast” to Ander. Ander sighed. Lu had a point, but he doubted Omar would drop him that quickly. They’ve had time to work out their issues. He trusted Omar. But he should get off his ass.

“Ander?” Omar called, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, sure, give me a minute.”

Lu clapped her hands together, “I’m feeling Thai, is that okay? Of course it’s okay.” She gave Ander one last glare as he slipped on his shoes, as if driving home the point. 

* * *

Ander fidgeted in his seat, feeling every fiber of the nice suit he’d put on scratching at his neck, his arms, his legs. Omar was peering at the menu across from him. Ander reached up to pull his fingers through his curls, stopping when he remembered the inordinate amount of time he took to tame his hair into something presentable. 

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It was only a few little words, and he was sure, so sure, that Omar would say yes. But he was still nervous.

The waitress came around to take their order. Ander simply repeated whatever Omar wanted, his stomach flipping too uncomfortably for the thought of food anyways. Omar smiled at him, a hand resting over his palms.

“Easy, Ander,” Omar cooed, “It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah, just dinner,” Ander repeated, more for himself than for Omar. 

Omar took another look around the restaurant. Upholstered velvet mixed with accented brass, servers in inconspicuous black, dinners that looked like their veins ran with money and not blood. Not exactly their scene, even if it would suit a few of their friends. 

“Pretty nice for just dinner,” Omar chuckled, “Not that I mind.”

“How’s work?” Ander blurted out, desperate for a distraction. He could feel his leg vibrating underneath the table and hoped Omar didn’t notice. 

“The comic’s coming along great,” Omar smiled, “Easy to slip in a character like me if I make it an ensemble cast.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re making superhero versions of our friends.”

“Fantasy versions,” Omar corrected, “They want to diversify their selection.”

“Ironic.”

Omar chuckled, “Isn’t it? I like this better, though. Superheroes were getting boring.”

Their food arrived, some fancy steak and potato number Ander just pushed around languidly on his plate. Omar noticed, because of course he would. He nudged Ander under the table with his foot. Ander tried to play it off, but Omar kept looking at him with that strange, inquisitive stare.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Omar asked, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” Ander said, his voice just a little too high and quick for his liking.

“You’re fidgeting, you’re barely eating, you refuse to look me in the eyes,” Omar sighed, “Ander, I thought we were done with secrets.”

“I wanted to do this later,” Ander muttered under his breath. He stood, ignored the alarmed look Omar was shooting him, and kneeled down beside his boyfriend.

He watched Omar’s eyes widen, “Ander?”

“Omar. I’m...not too good at these big declarations and words and whatever. But I love you. So I wanted to ask you something.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d been hiding in his drawer. He heard Omar gasp.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes Ander. Holy shit, Ander, yes.”

Ander had barely managed to slip the ring onto Omar’s finger before he was pulled into a kiss, deep and encompassing and much, much too risque for their current environment. He could hear faint murmuring from the other patrons. He didn’t care. The love of his life was going to be his fiancé.

He kissed Omar again, and again, and again, losing himself to his happiness, before an awkward cough pulled them out of their revelry. 

“Excuse me.” The waitress. “Would you like me to, um, get you some takeout boxes.”

“Yes,” Omar answered breathlessly. A pause, then he added, “Please.”

“Congratulations, sirs,” the waitress mumbled softly before hastily retreating.

Omar gave him another peck on the lips, “What am I going to do with you?”

Ander shrugged, “Marry me, I guess?”

“Seems so.”

Ander laughed, jabbing at Omar’s side as they collapsed into a chair much too small to support two grown men, the other patrons be damned. He was engaged to the man he loved. He deserved this. And if Ander was still kissing Omar when the waitress returned with their boxes, well, who could blame him, really?

* * *

The little bag floated innocuously in the tank, the drip of the little nozzle Omar installed periodically beating out a rhythm against the water. Some acclimating thing, to get the fish comfortable. Leave it to Omar to go out and buy more fish the day after his engagement. 

The three little blue fish swam in little circles in the bag. They did not seem as bright as the ones Omar showed in his pictures, but Ander assumed that was a result of the whole gender dimorphism in nature thing. Omar had spent an inordinate amount of time at the pet store, and Ander missed him.

“What took you so long?” Ander mumbled, playfully nipping at his boyfriend’s, no, fiancé’s, earlobes. 

Omar chuckled, “Sexing the fish took a long time.” 

“I have other ideas for what you can sex,” Ander crooned, because last night and that morning and that afternoon was not nearly enough. 

“Do you now?”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

“How about after I finish acclimating my girls?” Omar said, wiggling his way out of Ander’s grasp. Ander pouted. Omar simply laughed, “Don’t be like that, it won’t take too long.”

Ander continued pouting, “Omar, I’m your fiancé. Do you really love those fish more than me?”

Omar shrugged, “They are my children.”

Before Ander could whine some more, the doorbell rang. Ander groaned, pushing himself away from Omar and getting the door because he was raised somewhat right. It still did not take away his surprise when he found Carla standing behind the door.

“You didn’t get my text?”

“My phone is literally full of texts right now,” Ander said sheepishly.

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and pulled him into a hug, “Congratulations, Ander. About damn time.”

“That’s what everyone’s been telling me,” Ander croaked out. Carla unhanded him, thankfully, and patted him a few times on the back.

“And where is Omar?”

“In there.”

They stared at each other for a moment, “Will you not invite me in?”

“Sorry,” Ander said sheepishly, “Do you want, ah, a drink or something?”

“That would be nice,” Carla chuckled, “Why don’t you give me a tour of your little love nest?”

Right. This was her first visit to Madrid ever since they bought the house. She had villas and penthouses all over the world, investing her money in business after business with a golden touch that marveled Ander. It was surprising that she had time for their little world in Madrid, but he supposed a part of her will always be tethered to this city. 

Ander nodded, motioning for Carla to follow him inside. Her eyes trailed slowly over their decorations, an eclectic mix of sparse homeliness, before landing on Omar, still fiddling over the fish tank.

“What do we have here?” 

Omar whipped around, “Carla!” He was across the room in an instant, pulling her into an embrace, “You’re here! Not terrorizing Samu too much, I hope?”

“I’m only terrorizing him a little,” she said smugly. 

“Making the rounds?”

“You know it,” Carla grinned, “Gotta make sure none of you idiots are hurting yourself.”

Her eyes landed on the fish tank. She made a little sound before strutting over to the aquarium. For a few long seconds, the silence stretched between them as she took in the view, “This is beautiful, Omar.”

His fiancé beamed, “Thank you.”

“But why the bag?”

“He’s acclimating them,” Ander piped up, wanting to contribute to the conversation, not missing the proud glint in Omar’s eyes at his answer. Ander was learning. The lectures were rubbing off.

“Interesting,” Carla said coolly. She had not lost her ability to seem disinterested in her surroundings, but Ander knew better. The way her gaze transfixed itself to the tank, watching the fish swim back and forth and root and hide, betrayed her words. He wondered why her guard was always up like this, even around people she should trust, or if this was just something ingrained into her personality. 

“It’s about time to let them out,” Omar said, “Would you like to watch?”

Carla hummed. Omar reached for the little fish scooper, reaching in the bag and gently transferring each pale blue fish into the tank. The three fish quickly beelined for the foliage, staying absolutely still between the blades of plants.

“Why are they doing that?” Carla asked, “Are they dying?”

Omar chuckled, “No, they’re just adjusting. They’ll probably be shy for awhile.”

“Do you still want that tour?” Ander asked.

Carla hummed, “Maybe later. This tank is...enchanting. I’m tempted to install one in one of my estates.

“Well,” Omar said, “You gotta make sure you do things right.”

Omar launched into a speech about the specific needs of fish, about how they deserve the same amount of care as any other pet, about how a multitude of preparations were needed before the process could even begin. Ander watched as Carla nodded along attentively, even if she tried to maintain that aloof air. Polo used to tell him that Carla had an affinity for small animals. He supposed that was something that hadn’t changed. Polo. Now that was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time. Hasn’t thought about in a long time. 

Eventually, Carla and Omar’s conversation meandered to other subjects. Ander watched fondly as Omar showed off his engagement ring, Carla turning his fiancé’s hand back and forth to see how silver band in the light.

“Ander, this is quite pretty,” Carla said, “You’ve got surprisingly good taste.”

“Surprisingly?”

“You’re a walking Lacoste ad, Ander,” Omar said, a playful smirk on his face, “Carla might have a point.”

Ander groaned, “What about you? Your entire closet is just floral shirts.”

“Is this trouble in paradise?” Carla quipped.

“Unfortunately, I love him,” Ander sighed.

Omar nodded, “Unfortunately, likewise.”

Carla covered her eyes, exaggerating her groan, "Stop flirting in front of me.”

“Would you rather we talk about Samu instead?”

“I hate you, Omar.”

Ander chuckled. There was something so familiar about the easy back and forth, the teasing, that he never really had with Carla when they were back at school. The distance had done her good, he realized. 

“Will you stay for dinner?” Ander asked.

Carla nodded. “Say, are you two planning to have a party to celebrate all this?”

“All what?” Omar asked cheekily, pointing to his ring, “You mean this little thing?”

“Maybe,” Ander answered before Omar and Carla could get into another ribbing match, “After we tell our parents, of course.”

“Better do it soon before I have to fly back to Beijing.” It sounded cold, but Ander knew what Carla was implying. She wanted to share in their happiness.

“How long will you be staying?”

“Another month.”

Ander hummed, “That should give us plenty of time.” 

* * *

“Yes, mom,” Ander said into his phone. “Please stop telling me it’s about time, I’ve been ribbed by literally everyone at this point.”

Omar grinned up at him from across the store, pointing up at the fish he’d been eyeing. Ander grinned back, holding the phone a little closer to his ear. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of planning and announcements and now that he’d finally gotten around to telling his mom, he found out she’d booked a vacation with the superintendent of another school district she met at an educator’s conference. Good for her, Ander wasn’t going to judge. Still, it was a bit disappointing that he won’t be able to break the news to his mom in person.

“I’m happy, mom. Omar is too. Yes, we won’t plan the wedding until you get back, I’m an excellent son.”

Omar waved him over. Ander nodded, “I’ll call you back. Omar wants me to look at something.”

Ander waited for his mother to say her goodbye before clicking off the phone. He joined Omar’s side, hooking his arm around his fiancé’s waist. Omar had been giddy for the addition of these fish, the moonlight gourami that he had built the whole tank around in the first place. Still, in true Omar fashion, he was taking his sweet time choosing out which fish he wanted to bring home.

“Found one you like, yet?”

Omar nodded, “These two here. I think they’re the only girls in the tank, and they’re already pretty much joined at the hips.” 

Ander hummed. It was the first time he had been to the local fish store Omar frequented to buy his fish. Omar insisted that the fish here were healthier and more well cared for, and Ander would have to agree. Looking around, there were much less dead fish, the water in all the tanks looked clean, and the fish seemed much more active compared to the ones in the chain store. Even the little cups full of those long tailed fighter fish were absent.

One of those fish was in the tank right next to the moonlight gourami. Ander had thought they were aggressive, but here it was, swimming happily along a group of small red fish advertised as chili rasbora. He watched the fighting fish bobble up to surface and gulp down a few mouthfuls of air. It turned to look at him with wide, curious eyes. Ander lifted a finger to the glass, watching as the fish followed his motions, sweeping up and down as he gestured. God, it was cute. The fish had shorter fins than he’d come to expect from these fighting fish, but it was still a striking color, pale pink spotted with dark blue. 

Ander continued playing with the betta for a few moments until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Omar looked at him curiously, the pair of gouramis safely secured in a bag by his side.

“See something you like?”

Ander nodded, “He’s cute.”

Omar chuckled, “Assuming the betta’s gender? But yeah, he’s a boy.” But his smile dropped when he saw Ander’s eyes, “Ander, we can’t keep a betta with the fish in the tank.”

“But look at him,” Ander whined, tracing a circle and watching in delight as the betta followed, “He loves me. And he’s fine with these chili rasboras.”

“Because they’re smaller. The fish in our tank are big,” Omar explained gently, “And the pygmies are really close to his size and shape, he’ll attack them or they’ll attack him.”

Ander opened his mouth to ask about a little bowl or something before Omar cuts him off, “And no, Ander, bettas cannot live in bowls. Nothing can, except for, like, shrimp and snails.”

“How about that empty twenty liter you have set up in the kitchen?”

“It’s not empty, there are plants,” Omar protested, but Ander could already see his resolve cracking, “And that tank’s a back up, in case the fish in the big tank fight.”

“But there hasn’t been any fights,” Ander pointed out, “And didn’t you say these moonlights are the mildest fish we’re gonna keep?”

“Yeah…”

Ander shot Omar his best begging look for good measure, widening his eyes and parting his lips, just slightly. He could practically see the moment Omar conceded. 

“Fine,” Omar sighed, “Don’t puppy eyes me, Ander. Good thing the tank’s been planted and cycled for awhile now, but I don’t think you can get him any more tank mates.”

“That’s fine,” Ander grinned, “I’d rather have him to myself.”

“What am I, then?” Omar squawked.

“You have like, twenty other fish to love.”

Omar just laughed and shook his head, flagging down a salesperson to help him net the betta. Ander bit his lips in anticipation, excited to have a bit of his own say in all of this.

“Thanks, Omar,” Ander said, “I’ll need you to teach me everything you know.”

“You already know a lot,” Omar chuckled.

“Could always learn more. Just happy to have something else to share with you.”

Omar raised an eyebrow, “I thought we were already sharing this.”

Ander shrugged, “I dunno, Omar, you were pretty bossy when it came to this whole thing.”

“I was not!”

Omar paused, looked down at the fish in his hands, and sighed, “Yeah, I was.”

“It’s okay,” Ander smiled, “Now you can help me with this and I promise I’ll do your water changes once a month.”

“You do know they need to be biweekly, right?”

“Take it or leave it, Omar.”

Omar rolled his eyes and leaned in to seal the deal with a kiss.

* * *

They had not even thrown their engagement party yet and wedding preparations were already fully under swing. Ander had taken a few days off from work, letting Rebe handle the preparations of their new grand opening to her dismay. Bills and taxes and budgets could wait, since he now had to deal with a whole new set of bills and taxes and budgets anyways. Omar, unfortunately, was going through a bit of crunch to present his second original comic idea, so he couldn’t help Ander with much of the planning. Ander tried his best to include his fiancé anyway, popping questions about venues and themes and dates and trying to get Omar’s input.

It was a good excuse to sit around the kitchen to watch his new betta explore its new tank. Omar had decorated the whole thing around a piece of jutting driftwood, with masses of plants forming a lush mound of green from the middle, spilling over to the edges of the tank. The betta was an incredibly curious little thing, popping in and out of the plants and sticking its nose in every nook and cranny it could find. He really should name it something soon.

“When should we get our names changed?” Ander mused, watching the betta slide up and down the long blade of some water plant, “Probably after the wedding?” 

“Omar and Ander Shana-Munoz have a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

Ander gasped, “Wait, I thought we were going for Munoz-Shana?”

“The ‘a’ naturally bleeds into the ‘m,’ Ander.”

Ander shook his head vigorously, “No, it’s all about the double consonants, Omar.”

“I don’t know, Shana-Munoz just sounds better.”

Time to switch up his tactics. “I top, so it should be Munoz-Shana.”

Omar gasped, “Only like, three fourths of the time! Plus, bottoming takes more work anyway. I deserve to be recognized for my sacrifices. Shana-Munoz.”

The doorbell ringing put an end to their argument. Ander quickly wracked his brain, figuring out who it would be, before the realization dawned on him.

“Shit, Omar, it’s your parents.”

Omar raised an eyebrow, “Were we supposed to cook?”

Ander nodded.

“Fuck.”

Ander went to the door anyway, steeling himself for the awkward conversation of convincing Iman and Yusef to eat takeout. These people were going to be his future in-laws and he was already failing them, hard. 

“Hel─”

“Ander, congratulations!” Iman exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. 

He could see Yusef behind her, giving him a curt nod, “About time. If I’m to lose another of my children to a white boy I’d rather get it over with now.” Even if his face was set like stone, the twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement. 

“Come in,” Ander said, “I made, um…”

Iman shook her head fondly, “Don’t worry, your sister told us about how busy you’ve been. So I brought food.” At this cue, Yusef lifted up the tray in his arms, beef ragout and rice in neat containers covered in saran wrap. 

Ander sighed in relief, “You two are lifesavers.”

He quickly cleared their dining room table for lunch as Omar greeted his parents and helped them with the dishes. They settled in, Ander and Omar regaling Iman and Yusef with the details of their engagement. Ander knew that Omar’s parents taking time off in the middle of the day like this was unprecedented. He appreciated that they cared about him, about his and Omar’s relationship. 

The conversation weaved around work, projects, their friends, before eventually settling on Omar’s favorite subject. The fish.

“The aquarium is beautiful, Omar,” Iman complimented.

Yusef nodded, “Yes, I will have to take some pictures and rub it in Ibrahim’s face. My son is quite talented.”

“It’s not talent, it’s just research,” Omar flushed, “But, ah, speaking of family…”

Yusef nodded gravely, “They already disapproved of Nadia and Guzman. I’m not sure how they’ll react to this.”

“Can’t you just not tell them?” Ander asked.

Omar sighed, “You don’t know how good my cousins are at keeping tabs on everyone in the family. Besides, I want to be able to post pictures of my own wedding.”

“Let them find out,” Iman said firmly, “We’ll deal with the fallout.”

“Mama.”

Iman nodded insistently, “We love you, Omar, no matter what. And that includes the boy you’re going to marry.” 

Ander’s heart soared at those words. He gave Iman a grateful smile, catching the fond look in her eyes as she smiled back. Yusef’s face stayed neutral, but the curt nod he sent in Omar’s direction spoke volumes to his intentions. Ander was glad that Omar had his parents on his side. 

“We love you too,” Omar said quietly, “Thank you.”

There was silence, then, the admission between Omar and his parents too rare and too weighty for further elaboration. Then Yusef spoke up, quietly, “May called again.” 

Ander’s breath hitched. He noticed Omar’s grip on his spoon going tight. “What did she say?” his fiancé croaked out.

“She wanted to check up on you two,” Yusef answered solemnly, “I told her about your engagement. She wants pictures.”

“Was she surprised?” 

Yusef laughed softly, “Very.”

“I assume she’s not coming, then,” Omar said, “What about her finances?”

“I didn’t ask. Didn’t want to scare her away again. I hope she’ll come around, Omar.”

“I’m sure she will,” Ander spoke up, surprised at the resolve in his own voice, “You both have so much love to give.”

Omar looked at him proudly, lovingly, and Ander had never felt luckier that he managed to find someone like Omar, with a family like Omar. They were flawed, yes, but they stood by each other. And he was going to stand by them as well. 

Iman gave him another soft smile, “Thank you, Ander.”

Yusef chuckled, “Well, Omar. If you really had to marry a white boy, I’m glad you picked this one.”

Later, after lunch was finished, Ander found himself perched on a kitchen stool watching his betta swim lazily back and forth in its tank. Omar had insisted on taking care of the dishes with Iman, and Yusef was mulling over Omar’s sketches across from him. The unnamed betta seemed to notice his lack of companionship, and began darting back and forth in front of Ander. It stopped and opened its fins in front of him, before turning and showing him its other side like a strutting peacock. 

“The fish likes you,” Yusef mused, pulling Ander out of his reverie, “It is...cute.”

“He’s got personality, but I’m still not too sure what to call him.”

Yusef shrugged, “Animals do not need names.”

Ander hummed, “But still, I want to call him something other than ‘fish’ in my head.”

“Fish is a perfectly acceptable name.”

“Are we talking about names?” Omar said, grinning, “Because we were just having an argument about our names.”

“Oh?” Iman asked, “Trouble in paradise?”

“He thinks our last name should be Shana-Munoz, and I think it should be Munoz-Shana,” Ander explained. 

“Shana-Munoz sounds better,” Yusef stated plainly.  
  
“Right?” Omar exclaimed, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.”

Ander turned to Iman, silently begging her to take his side.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Iman muttered, patting his cheek softly, “But I have to agree with Omar.”

“I–I…” Ander sputtered.

“That’s three for Shana-Munoz,” Omar grinned.

“I still need to check with my mom,” Ander countered, “And she counts as two votes.”

Omar shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

* * *

Ander called his mom that night, dates and time zones be damned. Yusef had warned him not too subtly about never going to bed angry, and Ander would rather this matter be settled before it boiled over into something uglier.

She picked up after the fourth ring, “Ander? What’s wrong?”

“Munoz-Shana or Shana-Munoz?”

“What?”

Beside him, Omar chuckled lightly, face still flush from the little romp they had a few minutes before. “Last names,” Omar explained, pressing the speaker button on Ander’s phone, “Ander wants to know if we should go with Shana-Munoz or Munoz-Shana.”

“Shana-Munoz, no question,” his mother replied, almost immediately. Ander had never felt more betrayed in his life. 

“Anything else, boys?”

“No,” Omar replied, trying his hardest to contain his laughter, “Have a good vacation, Azucena.”

“Just call me mom, Omar. Good-bye, you two!”

“Bye,” Ander croaked out, hanging up the phone. He refused to meet Omar’s eyes, knowing his husband must have the most shit eating grin in the entire world plastered on his face right now. 

“So. That settles that.”

“Jerk,” Ander huffed.

Omar shrugged, “Alright then, guess this jerk is going to sleep instead of prepping for round two.”

Ander quickly jumped on Omar, pulling him into a heavy kiss. He could admit defeat when he needed to.

* * *

“Omar! Congratulations!” Nadia yelled over the music, “Took you two long enough!”

Omar swayed on his feet, tipsy from the alcohol, and pulled his sister into a hug. Ander watched with amusement and sent a silent prayer to whatever deity was watching to keep their home from getting completely trashed. The plan was for something a little bit more adult for their engagement party, dinner at the restaurant and then a wind down at their house. They were adults now, after all. But he had not counted on Valerio and Christian’s pure chaotic energy or how much that would trigger Rebe’s inner party animal. So here he was, slightly inebriated, watching with slight horror as his home was slowly dismantled. 

“Please don’t hurt Roman,” Ander said quietly. Valerio and Christian were grinding on each other extremely close to his betta, and god, he was not going to lose a fish after two weeks when Omar managed not to lose any of his twenty something in four months. 

“Roman?” Valerio shouted, “Who’s that?”

“My fish.” It took him a hot minute, but the betta finally had a name. Partly to spite Omar, but partly because Ander liked the history behind that. 

Before Valerio could continue his descent into debauchery, he was quickly confronted by a very angry looking Lu. She quickly ushered him and Christian out of the kitchen and into the spare room. Ander made a mental note to give that particular room a very, very deep clean when the night was over. 

The night continued in earnest, Ander weaving in and out through the crowd contentedly. He spotted Carla whispering in a corner conspiratorially with Samu. He gave her a small wave. She waved back, raising her glass to him, a little private toast between friends. Rebe was draped over a girl he recognized as a manager for their restaurant. Ander would have to give her a speech about that power imbalance sometime, but he did remember overhearing Isobel gushing over Rebe to one of her coworkers, so perhaps it was mutual. 

Nadia came up to him then, and pulled him into a hug. It was a bit strange seeing her without Guzman. Ander had always associated the two of them together, especially after their marriage.

“Took you long enough,” she whispered into his ear, “Congratulations, Ander.”

“Thank you, Nadia,” Ander smiled kindly, “Where’s Guzman?”

Nadia scrunched her nose, “Doing some kind of drinking game with Lu and Omar.”

“I feel like we should be worried.”

“We should be. Very worried.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Nadia let out a quiet sigh, “He’s happy, Ander. You make him so happy. I’m glad…”

Ander nodded, “I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Let him take care of you, too, okay?” Nadia said quietly, “You two are always playing each other’s saviors.”

“We’re not!”

“You are,” Nadia insisted, “And it’s fine. But you both have to work on, I don’t know, accepting help.”

“I know, Nadia. We’ve been improving.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

She jabbed him lightly in the side, “Hey, when you guys are married, don’t forget about me and Guzman, okay?”

“Never,” Ander scoffed, “Besides, you and Guzman were the ones that left us in the dust.”

“Lies and slander.”

“Hey, Nadia?” Ander said quietly, “Thank you for being there for Omar when I wasn’t.”

“Don’t blame yourself for things you can’t control.”

“I could have made different decisions.”

Nadia sighed, “We all could’ve. I’m glad you’ll be my brother in law, Ander.”

“Me too.”

She tapped his shoulder lightly before slipping away into the crowd. He was grateful for Nadia. She grounded Guzman, grounded Omar, and he could feel himself be grounded by her too. Ander realized how lucky he was. He wasn’t just marrying Omar, he was becoming a part of his wonderful family, a place warm and comforting. With really good food. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a crash in the kitchen, followed by a yelp that sounded like it could be Lu or Guzman. Fuck, he should probably go make sure no one was hurt. Ander was going to regret all his life choices tomorrow morning, wasn’t he.

* * *

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re staring at the tank like a hawk, Omar?”

Omar sighed, “Valerio said it was dirty yesterday.”

“It looks fine, Omar.”

“He’s right, though,” Omar insisted, “there’s algae on everything, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Ander took a look, finding himself confronted by a layer of green grime covering the plants and the glass. It was thin and barely noticeable, but he knew Omar was probably freaking out about this. He pulled his fiancé into a hug.

“Tell you what, help me clean up this mess and then I’ll help you figure out what’s going on.” Ander gestured to the state of their living room, ransacked from the night before. Cups spilled over into bottles and napkins, paper plates mingled with puddles of spilled wine. He was pretty sure the kitchen was in a similar state, and he was not looking forward to cleaning that. 

Omar raised an eyebrow, “Really? You’re gonna help me with the research?”

Ander nodded insistently, “You’ve been working hard on your comic strip. Let me pull some of the weight around here too.”

“Thought you were jealous of my fish.”

“Our fish.”

Their moment was promptly interrupted by the stumble of footsteps on the ground. Ander whipped his head around, gaping in an incoherent mixture of relief and bewilderment when he spotted a very disheveled Valerio padding towards the door. 

“Hey,” he slurred, “Congrats on the engagement, Omar. Ander.”

Before Ander could respond, an equally tousled Christian staggered in after Valerio. Ander felt his eyebrows shot up into his forehead. He could feel Omar trying to hold in his laughter as Christian’s eyes quickly shifted between himself, Valerio, and Ander and Omar.

“Merry engagement,” Christian croaked out.

Omar, bless his heart, couldn’t help but grin, “Looked like you had a lot of fun last night, Christian.”

“He did,” Valerio grinned. Ander wished he had his phone out, because the squawk Christian let out was something that would definitely have gone viral. The boy rushed out of the house at a speed that could put Olympic runners to shame, dragging Valerio with him with only a stilted goodbye on their way out. 

“I do not want to know what happened with those two last night,” Omar muttered quietly.

“We have to clean the guest room.”

“Fuck.”

“Really clean.”

“Fuck.”

“Were we like that?” Ander mused, “When we got together?”

Omar scoffed, “I think we were worse.”

Ander rolled his eyes and tossed Omar a broom. “C’mon, fiancé. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Yeah, we do.”

* * *

Ander flipped the pages of the manual over in his hands. It should have been simple, really, just a pipe with some tubing and some air, but Ander was really scared of fucking it up. Omar had done such a good job of keeping the fish healthy, having not lost a single one of his aquatic companions, and Ander was deathly afraid that he was going to be responsible for the tank’s first fatality. 

Still, after a few days of endless research, he had concluded that this was the best way to combat the algae problem. Infuse the tank with CO2 and let the plants do the work. Something to do with nutrients and competition that Ander didn’t completely understand, but it seemed like the best idea. No need to worry about new fish or damaging chemicals. Omar had been on board, at least, saying something about how he wanted to try his hand at a plant carpet and the CO2 would really help kick start their growth. 

If only Ander could figure out how this damn thing worked. 

“You’re gonna stress yourself to death,” Omar muttered from behind him. A manila folder was clutched to his chest. Today was the day Omar was to present his pitch. 

Ander reached out and smoothed the crease in Omar’s brow with his thumb. “Pot, kettle.”

Omar hummed softly. Ander hoped, desperately hoped, that this was his fiancé’s big break. Omar had worked so hard to get his talent recognized. He needed this, a comic to his own name, written by himself. 

“You’re gonna do great,” Ander said softly, pressing a kiss to Omar’s forehead. A little token of luck, a touch of reassurance. 

“Thanks,” Omar replied, “And please don’t stress yourself out too much about this.” 

“Too late.”

Omar chuckled. They kissed again, and again, each time Ander feeling Omar’s tension peel away, even if only a little. Then his fiancé was gone and Ander was left staring at the mess by the tank. He rolled up his sleeves. If Omar can face a room full of old corporate suits, then Ander can figure out some damn tubing.

He did manage to get the thing to work, finally. Ander crumpled into the couch, watching with amusement as each of the fish came over to investigate the new bubbling pipe. The moonlight gouramis quickly cowered away from the device, the male pygmy engaged the diffuser in a staring contest, and the cory cats quickly turned riding the column of bubbles into their new favorite pastime. Omar had mentioned ordering a new plant to cover up the pipe, and Ander was lazily scrolling through a selection of tall aquatic plants to decide on something when he heard the door click. 

“Welcome home,” Ander called, “How’d it go?”

“I got a deal,” Omar said breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe his own words.

Ander shot up from his seat, rushing to Omar’s side and embracing him in a crushing hug. He heard laughter, but he wasn’t sure if it came from him or Omar. Omar did it, his wonderful fiancé did it. Ander thought of the empty space on the wall for the first issue under Omar’s name, and how it would soon be occupied, and he felt his breath hitch.  
  


“I’m so proud of you, Omar,” Ander whispered, sounding so much wetter than he intended.

Omar blubbered something incoherent into his chest. Ander squeezed him harder.

“I love you, Omar.”

“I love you too, Ander.”

Their lives were slotting into place, slowly but surely. Ander’s eyes wandered to the ring on his finger. He gently pulled Omar towards their bedroom, ready to kiss him senseless. Their future stretched out before them, and he was fucking glad Omar would be there to hold his hand the entire way.

“I set up the CO2,” Ander said offhandedly.

Omar whistled, “All by yourself? Impressive. You didn’t have to, you know.”

“We’re in this together,” Ander said firmly, “All of it.” And he meant every word. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to say I'm not particularly proud of this fic, but I've written literal thousands of words for this and didn't want it all to go to waste, so off into the nether it goes. Be gentle, this was entirely me being extremely self-indulgent and projecting my love of fish onto Omar. 
> 
> Watch season 4 destroy every headcanon I included in this fic. The joys of writing for an ongoing work. Also thank you ao3 for not supporting subscripts, very cool.


End file.
